Shells of Hope
by Chris the Wolf Boy
Summary: See User Lookup for Summary. First three chapters are flashbacks, think of them like a dragged out prolouge. I know the chapters are short, but its a short story.!Final Chapter now up!
1. Here lies the beginning

_In a dark room, a door is opened to reveal a sliver of light, falling on a desk with a chair, and a bed in the corner. The light briefly plays along what seems to be lenses of rectangular glasses, but the door is shut to close out any view. The silhouette of the figure who opened the door sits down in the chair by the desk, his gaze looking at something far off and long gone...looking a a memory of when it all began._

"Kristoff!" the sound of a mothers voice echoed up the staircase of the small house. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, smiling widely with her husband at her side. Both were relatively tall, and in good shape. The mother had silvery blond hair and steel blue eyes, her skin was tanned from working out in the yard. The man standing beside her was well built, with strong square shoulders. His skin was a bit paler than his wife's, working in an office all day. His hair was short, the color of fresh coal. His eyes were a dark chocolate brown. Both parents wore wizarding robes, to commemorate the day.

Footfall was heard up the stairwell, and a boy emerged at the top of the staircase. He grinned widely down to his parents, wearing his very first set of robes. "Look, They fit!" He shouted in glee. The boy was a bit on the scrawny side, skin not tan nor pale but a pleasant mix between the two. His hair was a deep brown, cut short and neat. The boy's eyes were the same as his mothers, steel blue, and hidden behind a glimmering pair of glass lenses.

"And you look very handsome in them as well" His father said to the boy. Kristoff grinned slightly at the compliment, running his hand down the front of his robe to straighten it.

"Come on down dear, presents are waiting" At the comment Kristoff grinned even wider, running down the stairs two at a time. He rushed past his parents, running into the kitchen. It was his /11th/ birthday, they'd have gotten him something special. When he reached the kitchen he stopped, the grin disappearing. There was a small box on the table, near the obvious cake. Just...a tiny box, wrapped in gold paper. Kristoff walked slowly over to the box.

"You'll love it Kristoff," He heard his fathers voice from behind him and turned. "Well go on, open it" His father urged, he glanced to his mother who gave an encouraging smile. Kristoff made his way over to the box, slowly taking the wrapper off and opening the box to reveal a small cerulean colored pen.

"..Gee...thanks dad. It's...It's great" He forced a smile. Kristoff knew how much the pen would've cost, and that much money being spent in their family obviously counted as a great gift. But...a pen that writes by itself was something his father would like...not him...not Kristoff. The boy had always had a passion for cooking, yes you heard right, cooking.

The rest of the party had gone by fairly quickly, he'd smiled on the outside, but on the inside he was crushed. Hadn't his parents known he didn't want to follow in his father's footsteps? Hadn't they known he would hate the pen? Up in his room he laid on his bed, slamming his fist into the mattress, "I should've seen it coming," He mumbled harshly to himself, "I should've seen that future coming..."

Why hadn't he? It irked him so, how he'd never have premonitions about something important to /him/. Only about quite random things, a dog would get hit by a car, his father would get in trouble with the boss, but never things about /him/.

Footfall in the hallway, coming towards his room. Kristoff sat up, listening...but there was nothing. He made his way over to the door, listening, and moment later there was the footfall he'd pre-heard.

"Kristoff?" He heard his mother's voice ask nervously, out here will you?" There was something wrong...but what?  
He opened the door slowly, peering out into the hallway. His mother was...crying? Why was his mother crying?

"I can't do it-Kristoff Run!!" she screamed as a man pulled her away, dressed in a cloak that covered their head. Kristoff turned to run back into the room, but was soon grabbed by one of the men and pulled into the hallway.

"Let me go!" Kristoff shouted, struggling desperately. The man carried him down the stairs and into the kitchen, keeping their grip and pulling up the sleeve of his robe. He looked frantically around the room, for his father...where was-...no...He shook his head, tears forming in his eyes, "Father!" he shouted, but knew it was pointless.

His father lay dead by the door. Kristoff's gaze was torn away from the body as a sharp pain shot up his arm, he looked to the spot where a wand was pointed at his skin, burning the image of a skull onto his arm. He was trembling, and looked up to the men holding him. The group started to part, letting a man through and bowing slightly to him.

Kristoff was trembling terribly, the man grinned down, acid yellow boring into steel blue.

"Now now, Kristoff...Theres nothing to be afraid of. We're finished here...I'll see you in say...seven years?" the man said with a malicious grin. The rest of the men around him turned and left the room, leaving Kristoff with his sobbing mother and dead father.

That was when it all began...


	2. Wonderful Years

AN- Short Disclaimer! Alright, but seriously...if you dont know that any of JK Rowlings characters arn't mine you need help. This disclaimer is mainly for the new character introduced here. The girl her befriends Kristoff is NOT MY CHARACTER!!! She belongs to my good friend Cassara Barr. See my reviews if you want to read her stories. And now, ONWARD TO THE STORY!

_In a dark room as drawer is slowly opened by a boy of no more than eighteen years in age. He sits in a chair at a desk in black wizarding robes. The faint light catches glass lenses, letting them shimmer lightly as a medium sized book is taken out of the drawer. The drawer held a few more items as well, a smaller book, and underneath the false bottom...a notebook and a cerulean pen._

_But the figure was concentrating on the larger book, opening the cover to reveal a photo of two people on a special day. A boy with glasses and short, neat, brown hair...and a girl who made all the difference._

After his eleventh birthday...Kristoff hadn't been the same. The smiling, friendly, outgoing boy who had once stood at the top of the stairs, ecstatic that he'd found clothing that hadn't been to large for him...that boy was gone. All that was left was an empty shell, the sides encrusted with a small portion of what had once been. Perhaps...the contents of this empty shell still existed somewhere...but if so, it would take time to return.

The sorting had been terrible; Kristoff had gone close to last...as alphabetical order implied. When the names had reached 'D' a peculiar name was called..., "Alma Dumbledore" had been the dubbance of the girl. Kristoff had watched as she went up, her head held high in pride. To the crowd's surprise...the girl had been sorted into Slytherin.

Not long after, Kristoff was called up. It was the moment he dreaded...the moment this wonderful school started to slowly become a place of torment. "Kristoff Snape," Was the name called, and reluctantly he made his way to the stage, head hanging, gaze to the floor. No, his father hadn't been the immensely hated Potions teacher...his father was dead. It was his uncle who now sat at the long table behind the stool, the stool where Kristoff now sat with the large black hat on his head.

Then the second surprise of the sorting ceremony came, little Kristoff was sorted into Ravenclaw. The boy made his way hastily to his house table, slouching terribly into the seat on the bench. Only one person talked to him that night, and it was only a greeting. Her name had been Luna Lovegood, but she didn't seem to be all too popular herself. Kristoff knew what must be going through their heads...through the students minds. Surely someone related to Professor Snape was no good.

So Kristoff kept to himself, talking to no one. The first week ended quickly enough, leaving the students to rest in peace on the first weekend of the school year. Kristoff knew what he'd do, find someplace where he could be alone...and read. Read what? Simple, the only book he'd owned before school...a small cook book with intricate gold writing on the binding. He made his way down the hallway, hiding the smaller book behind a book of spells...disguising it from prying eyes. Disguising it simply because if there was no one to see the book...there would be no one to torment him about his interest.

Halfway down the hall from the Ravenclaw common room there was a collision. Kristoff fell backwards into a sitting position as both books went hurtling through the air. He could barely make out who it was he'd collided with, as his glasses had fallen as well.

"Oh...Sorry" the voice of a girl responded quickly, holding up the fallen spectacles.

"Its...It's alright," Kristoff stammered in reply, scrambling for the two books that had been existentially discarded. He found the book of spells with ease, but couldn't seem to locate the smaller one.

Finally he spotted it, and froze as it was slowly taken up by none other than the Slytherin boy who seemed to make it his job to torment the 'underlings' of the school; Draco Malfoy. Kristoff slowly brought himself to his feet, pressing his glasses closer to his face and awaiting the torment he felt sure he would receive. "Who's is this?" the Slytherin spat out, turning his gaze to the trembling Kristoff...but his gaze soon shifted to the girl.

"Its mine, Draco." She replied, walking over to the blond. It was then that Kristoff realized who the girl was, none other than Alma Dumbledore.

"I didn't know you could cook Alma?" Draco said to the girl, raising an eyebrow as he did so.

"Well, I guess you learn something new every day," Alma replied, kissing the blond lightly on the cheek and taking the book from him. The whole school had known of this, the two students had been together for almost the entire week that school had been in session. Kristoff watched as the two students said their goodbye's, soon after Draco was out of sight, and Alma turned back to Kristoff, handing him back the small leather-bound book.

"You're Kristoff aren't you?" She asked, obviously remembering him from various classes...or perhaps it was the sorting.

Kristoff nodded, glancing towards the girl before shifting his gaze once more away.

"I'm Alma," She went on, stating what the boy had already known. She then turned to look down at the book clutched tightly in Kristoff's hands. "Do you like cooking?" She inquired.

The brown haired boy looked up at the question, letting the ghost of a smile play on his lips as he nodded very slightly.

"I wish I could cook," Alma went on with a smile that almost made it seem like she was hiding a wonderful, yet horrible secret. "I burnt the kitchen wall last time," She finished with a wink.

Kristoff grinned slightly at the conversation starter, "My mother used to go away on weekends, and I had to do the cooking because when my Fath-," he cut himself off, choking terribly on the word that he'd begun to say...but he forced the grin to return, the grin that now held the emptiness that mirrored this boy, "When my Father had to cook, he set the stove on fire." He finished.

Alma nodded, continuing as if she'd noticed nothing strange about his pause, "What type of food do you enjoy cooking the most? The extent of my abilities is chicken."

Kristoff glanced up once more, attempting at the grin that had been there moments before. He glanced down to the small book clutched in his hands, "Soufflé's are a pleasant challenge...At least when it's quiet." He ran a finger along the binding with faded gold letters that read, 'All you ever need to know about Soufflé's'

"I'd never be able to stay quiet," Alma leant in to whisper then, as if what she was about to say was a tremendous secret, "I'm really loud."

Kristoff blinked slightly at the gesture, pushing his glasses up once more, "...Oh." Was all he managed to utter.

The months passed, and the two of them became close friends. Slowly, the empty shell that had been the brown haired boy began to fill.

Draco became jealous that Alma would spend so much time with the Ravenclaw boy. As we all know, Draco's father is a Death Eater. As such, he knows certain things...including Kristoff's largest secret. So of course, the blond Slytherin wanted pay back.

That payback came during Christmas break; Draco grabbed Kristoff and pulled him into an empty classroom. He shoved Kristoff back into a wall.

Glasses askew, Kristoff looked trembling at Draco as the boy spoke, "I'll teach you to mess with me," Draco whispered harshly. He then began to ear the arm off of Kristoff's robes.

"No!" Kristoff shouted feebly, "Don't!" He desperately tried to pull away, attempting to reach for his wand. But his arm was hit against the wall, and pinned as the sleeve of his sweater was torn off. All that was left was the bandages wrapped around his upper arm. The bandages that were not for a wound.

But those too were torn off, Kristoff managed to shove Draco away and put a hand up to cover the blue skull just as a familiar voice sounded from the doorway.

"What's going on??" Alma demanded, "Kristoff, are you ok?" she asked, assuming his arm had been hurt.

At that moment it seemed as if everything was pulled forward in time so quickly that it may have never stopped. Kristoff was thrown into the hallway, into the crowd of passing students enjoying their break. Pinned to the floor Kristoff could do nothing but keep his eyes shut tightly as the mark on his arm was shown to everyone.

Kristoff heard a unanimous gasp as he felt Draco pulled off, the soft material of a cloak put over his arm.

"What do you think your doing!?" he heard Alma yell to the blond Slytherin.

"Showing what he is," Draco replied with a sneer.

Kristoff sat up, pulling the cloak Alma had given him on as he watched the two argue.

"What makes you think I care what he is!?" Alma shrieked.

Draco replied with narrowed eyes, "Alma, Be reasonable!"

"No!" Was the shouted reply, "Forget it! Forget /this/!" And with the remark she jut a finger at the crowd that had formed. "I'm through with you!"

Kristoff stood up and fixed his glasses as Alma put a hand to his shoulder, going with him to the lake. As hard as he tried, the Ravenclaw boy could not ignore the whispering that went on behind them.

Once they were both at the lake, they sat by the water. "Kristoff...," Alma began, looking towards the silent boy, "How did you get that mark?...I know it was forced."

Kristoff turned to look at her, surprised that she would know that the blue coloring of the mark meant. Turning his gaze out to the water, he began to tell her. He told her everything, beginning with the cerulean pen his father had given him, and ending with the tragic death. As he choked out the last few words, he shut his eyes tightly, looking to the ground.

"Oh Kristoff..." She said, lifting a hand slightly.

As Kristoff looked down, the tears that fell landed onto the glass of his lenses, trickling down the side and falling off the rim. He took in a quick as she embraced him in a comforting hug.

All throughout school, the two remained friends. Slowly but surely, the empty shell that had been the Ravenclaw boy began to fill. It filled slowly but steadily, so that by the end of school it was no longer empty...but full. By graduation Kristoff was back to the way he had been before his eleventh birthday. His mother took a photo of them standing side by side in their wizarding robes, and Kristoff kept it.


	3. The Flashbacks End

_In the same dark room, in the same dim light, the picture from that wonderful day was put aside as the hands of the boy began to turn the pages of the large book. Despite all that had happened, a small and true smile played across the face of the boy. Faint light caught the glass lenses yet again as the boy's head was turned ever so slightly to look down at the opened book._

_The book was rather amazing. The pages moved, of course, like any magical picture...but they sprung forward as well. Almost like a type of hologram, but powered by magic. Judging by the pictures one may come to the conclusion that the book is about many different recipes and dishes. The pictures were that of cakes, soufflé's, and many other pastries. Of chicken and beef and hoards of other dishes! Surely this was a book that any lover of the cooking world would enjoy to simply look at. _

_The pages continue to flip, the smile on the boy's face began to fade as remembrance of the book's origin came to mind._

"Kristoff!" A voice called up those same familiar stairs, "Kristoff you have a guest!" That same voice from so many years ago. The woman, Kristoff's mother, was aged now. Her silver blond hair had gained strands of vibrant silver. Her face was lightly creased in some places, the lines of aging.

Footsteps were heard, and Kristoff emerged at the top of the stairs. Steel blue eyes shining behind the glass lenses that shimmered as he looked down to the two woman at the foot of the stairs, "Alma, you made it!" He said joyfully. It was Kristoff's eighteenth birthday, and Alma had been the only one he'd known well enough to invite over.

The girl smiled that smile of hers, the smile that seemed as if she were hiding a wonderful and horrible secret, "Of course I made it! How could I miss the eighteenth birthday of one of my best friends?"

Kristoff's mother had exited the room to leave the two friends alone. Alma held up a decently large square package wrapped in glistening blue paper, "Now get down here Kristoff and unwrap your gift!"

Kristoff smiled once more, he was everything that he had been on his eleventh birthday, everything that had been lost. He ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and stopped at the bottom next to Alma, gratefully accepting the gift, "Thanks," He said to her, eagerly tearing the shimmering paper away from the package. It flaked as it was torn into many different pieces, floating loftily to the floor as Kristoff stood there, staring at the gift he'd received with a grin on his face that hadn't shown itself in a very long time.

"Alma its...its wonderful!" He exclaimed, steel blue eyes shimmering behind the glass lenses as he eagerly opened the book and began flipping through the pages.

"I knew you'd like it Kristoff, I saw it in a shop window on Diagon Alley and just _had _to get it for your gift" Alma replied, smiling as well with her eyes closed.

Kristoff's mother served the two friends cake, they talked, they laughed. As much as his eleventh birthday had gone wrong, this one went right. Then it was time for Alma to leave, she waved to Kristoff's mother, gave her good friend an embracing farewell, and left through the fireplace via floo powder.

Kristoff sat in the living room, his new book lay open on his lap as he continued flipping through the pages. There were so many new recipes, and a few ways of making soufflé's that he hadn't tried before, Kristoff could hardly wait to get into the kitchen the next day!

_A group of hooded figures in the kitchen, mother is in danger._

Kristoff froze, closing the book slowly and placing it on the sofa beside him. That had been a precognition...something was going to go wrong...

"Mother?" He called out, bringing himself to a standing position in the living room and making his way towards the kitchen, "...Mother where are you?"

"Hello Kristoff, how nice it is to see you again after all these years"

The brown haired boy spun on his heels, terror coursing through him as he caught sight of the man that had ruined his life, and was about to ruin it more. "You!" He cried out, taking a step back and shifting his gaze quickly over the group of hooded figures, "Wheres my mother?" He demanded, surprised as his own courage.

"Now now Kristoff, surely you don't think I'd hurt your dear mother! She's safe and sound, right here" The man, known to many as the Dark Lord Voldemort, stepped to the side to reveal the older woman behind held with her hands behind her back by one of the cloaked figures.

"Kristoff!--" She began to shout, but was silenced with a twist of her wrists.

The boy regained the step he'd taken back a moment before, turning his steel blue gaze on Voldemort, "Let her go!" He shouted, and then voiced what he'd wondered for so long, "What do you _want!?_"

Voldemort grinned, acid yellow eyes boring into Kristoff's steel blue, "I've come to pick you up Kristoff my boy. Don't you remember me saying I'd do so on your eleventh birthday?" The grin faded for a moment as the Dark Lord's face took on a serious look, "You've quite an ability there, don't you? Why, we didn't even have to make a noise for you to know we'd gotten here." He looked over Kristoff, "Yes...quite a knack for knowing things before they happen..."

Kristoff could feel himself shaking, it was so tempting to yet again take that step back away from the man, and the figures. But they had his mother, and he wouldn't loose her...not like he had his father. "I'll...I'll go with you" He stammered, amazed that he'd actually said such a thing.

Voldemort inclined his head, raising both eyebrows and regarding the boy, "Will you, now? Well that certainly does make things easier..."

"I'll go with you" Kristoff repeated, "If you...if you let her go first..." He finished, the shaking going through his body continued.

Voldemort grinned sickly, "Wonderful...well then we'll leave right away."

Kristoff looked from the Dark Lord to his mother, "Wait! You've got to let her go first!"

Voldemort looked towards his mother, his face taking on a falsely empathetic expression, "Of course, how inconsiderate of me. It would be cruel to leave her here alone, her beloved husband dead and her only son the apprentice of the Dark Lord" He grinned once more then, raising his wand, "I'll let her go...though...perhaps not in the sense you are thinking of, young Kristoff."

Kristoff claimed yet another step, "No--!" he shouted, but already it was too late. The spell had been spoken, the jet of green light had flown, and his mother had fallen limp in the figure's arms and quickly dropped to the floor. He was shaking visibly now, the hand that he had brought outstretched towards his mother was trembling in mid air.

Voldemort, seemingly ignoring what had just happened, calmly walked over to the shaking boy. He placed a hand on his shoulder, earning a shuddering flinch from Kristoff. "Now now, dear boy...I let her go, did I not?" He grinned, boring into Kristoff's eyes, "We must be off now." And with that there was a serious of loud kracks in the air as the figures began to pop out of sight. Voldemort apparated as well, his hand still on Kristoff's shoulder, taking the boy with him.

A ploom of smoke emitted from the fireplace in the home that had once belonged to Kristoff only an hour after the incident had happened. "Kristoff I left my cloak here"

It was Alma.

She paused in the parlor as she saw the book on the couch, the room...and the entire house...had the feeling that something terrible had happened here. "Kristoff?" She called again, making her way towards the kitchen.

"Kristoff!?" Alma called once more, her voice taking on a desperate tone. She froze in the kitchen, dropping the cloak which she'd snagged off of an armchair onto the ground. Her hands flew to her mouth, eyes widened, and she screamed.


	4. Hating Reality

_The flipping of the pages ceased, the cover of the book flipped once more, this time shutting. Shutting the view of the vibrant three dimensional images of a past dream, shutting out the one piece of a former life left, shutting out the memories of a lost friend. _

_The photo is returned to the binding, the book is returned to its place, _t_h_e_ dr_aw_e_r i_s _s_l_o_w_l_y _cl_o_se_d. _Th_e_ _b_oy emits a light sigh, pulling off the glass frames for a moment to gently wipe across the lenses with the black cloth of his wizarding robes. The lenses were returned to their rightful place above the bridge of the boy's nose, and in front of steel blue eyes.

"How..." he mutters to himself, "...How did I get myself into this?" There was a slow exhale of breath as the boy continued to patronize himself.

"I should've stopped them..." a rough swallow, a clenched fist, "I should've done more to stop them. I..." another exhale of breath, "I'm so sorry Mother."

The sound of footsteps was heard outside the door, causing the boy to look up and turn his gaze towards the source of the sound. There was no knock, no 'may I come in?' but the door was opened, and the Dark Lord entered.

"Kristoff, I want you to come with me. We..." he paused for a moment, lips curling to form a sadistic grin, "...have a visitor of sorts."

It had been two years since that day. Other birthdays had gone by, but with no celebration. No cake. No gift. No friends or family. 'Twenty,' he'd thought that day. 'Twenty and stuck here...stuck here with no dreams to hope for.'

There was no future.

No..., he'd thought.

He'd thought, that's not right.

There _was_ a future, just not one to look forward too. Yes, there was a future...but it would be filled with more deaths, and pain. Nothing good would come for Kristoff; he would never live out any of his dreams. If things kept going the way they had been...he might not even see the sun again.

The sun...Kristoff remembered the sun. He remembered it on the day he was outside on the front lawn, watching his mother in the garden. He remembered it on the day he was in the kitchen, reading through his first cooking book.

'The book was on soufflés' Kristoff remembered. He still had that book.

He remembered the sun when he'd gotten the letter that told him he would be going to Hogwarts.

'Hogwarts' he'd thought then, _'Hogwarts!'_

He remembered the sun when he was sitting by the lake, when he was _crying_, when his one friend had been there to tell him it would be alright.

But it _wasn't_ alright. Nothing was alright. Nothing would ever _be _alright again. Kristoff's life had gone to hell. _Everything_ had gone to hell.

"Kristoff," The Dark Lord's voice was sharp, thwarting the boy out of his thoughts, and hurling him back into a world of cruel reality. "Come, now."

"Yes my Lord..." Kristoff uttered sullenly, shifting his gaze downcast as he did so. He pulled himself to his feet, following the Dark Lord out into the darkened hallway, and through the darkened house.

He hated calling him that, calling him 'my Lord'. It was...well...degrading, really. The man had killed his father, killed his mother, and kidnapped him. The man had _destroyed_ his life. He hated that man!

And yet...Kristoff had found out what happened when he didn't listen. There were...there were always consequences when he didn't listen, when he disobeyed.

But he still hated it, hated everything. Sometimes he thought he hated every_one_. But it wasn't true. He didn't hate everyone...not everyone. He didn't hate the people that he watched the Dark Lord kill. He didn't hate the souls that were lost, the people he once knew.

He didn't...he didn't hate his father. It'd been so long, but up until now he hadn't admitted it. He _didn't _hate his father, and he'd never been able to tell the man, never been able to say _goodbye_.

His mother, either. He hadn't been able to say goodbye to his mother. He watched her die...and couldn't utter a farewell.

'She shouldn't have died though,' he thought, 'it wasn't right.'

_Nothing_ was right. _Nothing_ was ok.

But everything had to change. He knew it, something had to change. Something that would make _everything_ change.

"Ah, here we are" Came the cold, sadistic voice of the Dark Lord. They had stopped in the main entrance chamber. This was where the Dark Lord was when he called them all. All the _willing_ death eaters. But they weren't all there now, only a few. And there was someone else, too.

Someone, Kristoff thought, that looked unnervingly familiar.

It was a girl, around twenty. It was a friend. It was Alma.

It was Alma, and she was in chains.


	5. Bittersweet Reunion

'Not right' Kristoff thought, 'It's not _right_!'

"Now..." came the dripping poison that was the voice of the Dark Lord. He turned his gaze on Kristoff, reveling in the tormented gaze the boy had locked on the girl. "This girl is to become a new recruit of mine...but she tends to be a bit..." and the Dark Lord turned his gaze on Alma, "...incorrigible."

He turned his gaze back to the boy then, back to Kristoff. "You, my dear apprentice, are going to assist."

Kristoff snapped his steel blue gaze over to the Dark Lord then. 'No,' he thought, swallowing harshly.

"She is to swear allegiance to me, and you are to make sure she does so." The Dark Lord let his baleful gaze delve into the trembling steel blue pools.

"I-I c-can't." Kristoff stuttered, taking a step back, the glass rims falling away from his eyes slightly to land on the bridge of his nose.

"You will," The Dark Lord hissed sternly, one claw-like pale skinned hand lifting and disappearing inside the pocket of the wizard's robes.

"N-no, I c-can't. Please-"

"_Imperio."_

Kristoff's plea was cut off abruptly as the spell was uttered. He had the sudden feeling of a rough pressure being put on the back of his head, under his skull. The room spun, swam before his vision, dimmed, and was engulfed by darkness.

When next he opened his eyes, it was to the view of a blank, white ceiling. Normal, if not blurred enough so as to be hard of vision. The boy sat up, swinging his legs over the side of his bed, and scrambling along the surface of the table nearby.

His fingers came into contact with a cold, metallic surface, and he gripped onto them. Bringing the item up, he placed them over his ears, and in front of his eyes. Instantly, the room came into focus.

"What..." he muttered to himself, taking in a shaky breath, and closing his eyes tightly, "What did I do..."

That was the question plaguing his mind, what exactly had he _done_ to her? He had no recollection, no memory of what the Dark Lord had forced him to do.

'Something bad, though' Kristoff thought.

He thought, 'It must be something real bad.'

There was a sharp intake of breath as the world spiraled into a whirlwind of color before Kristoff's eyes. He wasn't in his room anymore!

'Wait,' he thought, 'I must be...'

But he wasn't...not really.

_It was in the dungeons, Kristoff was standing off to one side, Alma chained to the far dungeon wall, and the Dark Lord standing in the doorway, his frame silhouetted against the darkness. _

_He was saying something, the Dark Lord...but Kristoff was unable to make out exactly what. There was a sneer on the Dark Lord's face, and his wand was raised. _

_Kristoff's through clenched tightly, shutting out all air, and his eyes widened. He wouldn't...he couldn't..._

'_But he would,' Kristoff thought, 'he _will_' _

_Then a word was said that Kristoff had no trouble understanding whatsoever. A word that, when heard, could be the last word you will ever hear._

"_Avada Kedavra," the Dark Lord hissed out, and Alma fell. She fell, and didn't move. _

"No!" Kristoff heard himself scream, opening his eyes quickly and darting his frantic gaze about his room. He took in a shaky breath, putting his head in both hands, and closed his eyes.

A single drop of water fell to the floorboards then, dripping from the glass rim framing the boy's steel blue eyes.

"No..." He uttered again. "Not that...not that."

He sat up, looking towards the door, and getting to his feet. Walking forward, he placed a hand on the iron door handle, hesitated for a moment, took in a breath, and turned it.

Kristoff stepped out into the hallway, turning to silently close the door behind him, and started to where he knew his friend would be. He started for the dungeons.

Walking down the stone staircase, he head into the one cell dungeon, and down the hall leading to the steel, locked door. She was in there...no more than ten feet away. He raised a hand up hesitantly towards the handle, opting to open it. But he faltered, and withdrew his hand.

Backing up, Kristoff let himself lean against the stone wall, sliding down into a sitting position directly across from the door.

It had been so long, and he had no idea what he'd done to her back there. What if Alma didn't forgive him? Why _would _she forgive him? Why _should _she? He'd probably hurt her-badly. And aside from that, for all Kristoff knew she'd changed after all these years. For all Kristoff knew, she might've been angry at him for leaving like that.

And what must they have thought? Kristoff had been gone, and his mother would've been there, dead. It must've surely looked like he'd killed his own mother, and run off! Alma might not even think of him as a friend anymore...

But he had to take a chance, before the premonition came true; he had to take a chance. Maybe...maybe if he did, he could change what happened. Maybe if he did...he could change the future. Maybe if he did...he could save her, save Alma, save his _one friend_.

So he stood up, taking in a breath, and letting it out slowly. He pressed his glasses to his face, as they'd fallen once more, and stepped forward, placing his hand on the handle, and slowly closing his fingers to grasp it.

This is it, he thought.

He thought, No turning back after this.

And so he turned the handle, throwing his weight against the door to open it. The sound of the metal scraping the stone flooring was deafly loud, he thought. Surely someone would hear it, so he didn't have much time. He slipped in through the gap between the door and door frame, peering into the dark cell, and spotting his old friend.

"Kristoff?" came the quiet, questioning voice of the girl. She was chained to the far wall, entire ensemble looking immensely disheveled, skin covered in dirt. "It is you, isn't it?"

The boy said nothing, simply took a single step to the side, and slid down into a sitting position against the wall by the door. He couldn't look at her for too long...she looked so...so _bad_. What had he done?

"Come on," Alma urged gently, patting at the floor beside her, the chains clinking together in the silence as she did so, "I've missed you Kristoff...so much."

He moved, but not as close as she'd beckoned him to. He shifted himself slightly, moving to sit against the wall that she was on, but farther down, closer to the door. Had she missed him? Had she really? Then...then she still thought of him as a friend.

"Kristoff..." She continued, turning her gaze worriedly on her old friend, "Are you alright?"

His throat clenched horribly then, closing tightly and threatening to suffocate him. Kristoff quickly snapped his gaze to Alma, narrowing his eyes in anger, anger at himself. "I should be asking _you _that Alma." He said hoarsely, turning his gaze to the wall across from him, staring angrily, blankly. "How bad was it...what I did?"

"_You _did nothing Kristoff!" Alma retorted, trying to move towards her friend, but being held back by chains, "It wasn't you, it was him, it was that _monster." _

"...It was..." He started, letting out a harsh breath, squinting his eyes as they threatened to water, "...It was bad then."

"No!" Alma narrowed her eyes, then softened them, looking at the ground for a brief moment, "It did hurt Kristoff." And as she heard the faint, muffled sound of a self-angered sob threatening to burst forth from her friend's vocals, "But it wasn't your fault! None of it was, you'd never _do _that to me. Never!"

"But it _did _hurt..." he muttered.

"But it wasn't _you _Kristoff!" Alma continued, pulling against the chains.

The conversation was put to a halt then as the thin band of light coming from the cracked door was blocked by the silhouetted figure of the Dark Lord. Kristoff looked up, quickly getting to his feet, standing with his back against the wall and looking over to the wizard.

"And what have we here?" the poison poured out into the silence of the dungeon, "Kristoff, you should be in your room."

Kristoff said nothing; he just turned his gaze down, shaking lightly, mouth pursed.

"Now now, if this..." and he turned his gaze to Alma, "...girl is to be a distraction for you. Perhaps she should be disposed of."

The boy's head turned up, steel blue gaze locked onto the older man, "No!" he shouted, voice cracking as it emitted from his vocals, "Please-don't. It...It won't happen again."

The Dark Lord only turned his mouth in a sadistic grin that only someone able to derive pleasure from others pain could muster. "No...I think that is the right thing to do. I can't have my apprentice having any other thoughts on his mind..." He had pulled his wand out of his pocket, turning it up to point at Alma.

And that was it, his premonition. It was happening...it was happening _now. _And...And he couldn't let it happen; he _couldn't _loose another person in his life. He couldn't!

"Avada Kedavra" Came the uttered spell, and Kristoff's heart felt as though it skipped a beat.

It happened so quickly, he barely thought about it. But as the spell was flying, as Alma thought she would surely never leave this cell, Kristoff had acted. He'd started to do something that would change the future he'd seen. He'd never tried to change the future before...but he did now. He tried...and he succeeded.

"Kristoff!" Alma shrieked, tears immediately springing to life at the corners of her eyes, "_No!!" _She shrieked once more. "You monster, you _monster!"_ she kept repeating the phrase, sobs overtaking her voice soon enough.

It was weird, he thought, it felt weird. Kristoff...he thought it would hurt. But it didn't...there was that strange pressure again, like earlier, but this time it was in his chest. In his lungs and his stomach and...and in his _heart._ It had skipped a beat again, but...but more than one.

His heart kept skipping beats more and more frequently, and then there was a solid surface at his back. The floor? Yes...it must've been. Someone was laughing...he _hated _that laughter. But...but someone was crying too. Someone was crying, someone he'd never heard cry before.

But it was happening so fast, he couldn't move anymore, couldn't open his eyes, couldn't breath.

So, he thought, his last ability it would seem.

He thought, this is what it's like...


End file.
